“You could have told me this was handled as soon as you had done so. Your communication skills leave much to be desired. I thought when you came back from Boston you would be more on top of things.” Roger finished his drink in two quick gulps and sat the glass hard on the table.
“Just because you are the last to know doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of business. And I don’t believe you have any complaints with how I ran the Boston office.” A familiar curl of anger furled low in my stomach. I had broken my back for this company; something my father too often pretended ignorance of. He glared at me, not wanting to admit I was right. We stood there in a silent standoff for a moment more before the tension seemed to leave his shoulders and they relaxed.
“Fine, I’m glad it’s taken care of. And I don’t care how big this Frank Hall character is, he works for my company. My name and reputation is on the line. There better not be any more setbacks, or I’ll see to it he never works in this city again.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Oh, your mother is planning a party at the summer house this weekend. You’re expected to attend so don’t make plans.”
My mom and her parties. I wondered if she would even be aware of this one this time around. “Ok, I’ll be there,” I promised. An idea formed in my mind. “I might be bringing a date. I’ll call mom later to let her know.”
“Whatever. Just make sure this fling of yours is dressed respectable. God knows, we don’t need a repeat of last time.” With that, Roger stalked out of my office, slamming the door behind him.
Reagan
The next two days flew by in a blur. My badge photo turned hadn’t turned out half bad, although, as Bailey informed me, the wearing it on your person at all times was something HR told everyone, but very few actually complied. Like a driver’s license, it was one of those ‘no one has to actually see it, but you better have it when asked’ types of things. Bailey had also given me the low down on the inaccessible thirteenth floor. This was where Roger Preston’s offices were located. In the six years Bailey had been employed at Elite, the thirteenth floor still remained a mystery.
His praise of the coffee cart had been spot on, and I found more pleasure that I should have in grabbing a mocha cappuccino and yogurt every morning right outside my office. Who knew a former barista from Texas would end up getting coffee delivered practically to her door; a door that happened to be to an office in one of the most prestigious firms in New York? It was all in the little things.
I was finding more familiarity with the ‘layout of the land’ (as Bailey called it), and was pretty sure I could pass a who’s who quiz about the department. I had shadowed several members of the team over the last few days, and had even been asked to provide some input on a new marketing campaign for a client. Brooke bought me a plant for my office, which she said required little maintenance, so hopefully I wouldn’t kill it. All in all, I was settling in.
I hadn’t seen Nathan since Tuesday, although not for lack of trying. I wasn’t sure what department he worked in, but was hesitant to ask around. Somehow, I didn’t think asking if anyone knew the delicious male specimen called Nathan would get me very far. And really, that’s all I had to go on. My numerous trips to the lobby throughout the day had yielded nothing, and there had been no more surprise encounters on the elevator. Which was just as well, I supposed. I didn’t discount my luck in being here, and wanted to make sure I proved I was worthy of it. My mind turned to mush when he was around, so it was probably best I not be distracted. Hey, it sounded good every time I repeated it to myself, after yet another failed attempt to ‘run into him’ in the lobby.
Today was Friday. I had been asked to sit in on the meeting with Roger Preston, and I was nervous. I had yet to even catch a glimpse of the man in the last two days. Brooke had been up at the butt-crack of dawn to finalize preparations, and to ensure things were just the way Mr. Preston required them to be. You would think the President himself was going to be in that conference room. It was more than a little daunting.
I was sitting with Danielle and Bailey, in what I would call a college lecture hall rather than a conference room, when I saw Brooke enter. She was followed by two Korean men, and lastly, Roger. He looked just as intimidating and scary as I’d imagined, and I had no idea how Brooke had dealt with him for the last few years. After giving a curt nod to the group assembled, he dove right into the heart of things.
“Mr. Cooper, what do you have for us,” he asked abruptly, motioning for Bailey to come up front. Bailey stood, smoothed down his suit jacket, as he and Danielle walked to the podium. They spent the next several minutes showing profits received from last month’s marketing events and promotions, as well as revenue taken in from the online sales from two hotels and a casino. The numbers were astounding, and I felt my eyes widen with each slide Danielle pulled up. This was serious cash; I slid my gaze to Roger Preston. His face revealed nothing. The man was hearing that his company had just raked in millions in the last few months, and we could have been discussing the weather for all the emotion he portrayed.
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” he commented once Bailey and Danielle had completed their presentation and returned to their seats. “Now, who do you have working on the Johnson and Johnson account? Their site has been down since they signed three months ago.” Mr. Preston read over a report, waiting for an answer.
“Mr. Preston, Mr. Reynolds has assigned Reagan Andrews to that account. He’ll be working with her on this when he gets back in a few weeks,” Bailey replied.
My head shot up as I caught Brooke look over at me.
“I need something before then. Get Isaac on the phone immediately. Who is this Reagan Andrews? Is she here?” Roger scanned the room and I felt myself sink down a little in my chair. God, this was embarrassing. Brooke quietly left the room, I assumed to get Isaac on the phone, and Bailey directed Mr. Preston’s attention to me with a wave of his hand.
“Mr. Preston, Miss Reagan Andrews,” he introduced us, and I resisted the impulse to crawl under the table. Roger Preston shot me a look over the rims of his glasses, but wasn’t given the opportunity to speak further as Brooke re-entered the room.
“Mr. Preston, Mr. Reynolds is on line two” she said, pressing a series of buttons on one of many remotes lining a side table. A television monitor lit up, and I saw Isaac fill the screen.
“Isaac, tell me where we are at with J&J?” Roger asked, by way of greeting.
“I just spoke with the head of their IT this morning. He’s ok with waiting until I finish up here. We will be meeting to show them outlines once I return,” Isaac answered.
“I have a touch base on this project scheduled for Tuesday. I need a rough draft of any changes by Monday. Get Miss Andrews on it,” Roger looked at me and I looked from him to Isaac.
“Will do, sir. Reagan, I’ll be in touch this evening. Bailey will provide you with the account files before you leave today.” Isaac instructed.
Bailey nodded in the affirmative, and the call ended. Wait a minute. .what had just happened here? Less than fifteen minutes into this meeting—my first with Roger Preston, the great and powerful—and I had somehow been tasked with creating a rough draft for a client I knew nothing about, to be presented to a man that semi-terrified me. I looked over to Brooke for support, but she was completely engrossed in taking notes as Roger continued to bark out orders. Without looking at me, Bailey reached over and patted my hand.
Welcome to Corporate America.
Chapter Five
Nathan
I stared at Reagan as she took down some notes following the call with Isaac. I could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders that she was nervous as hell, and my father, talking about her and not to her, in that condescending tone of his wasn’t helping. Damn the man, and his need to always be in control!
I had slipped quietly in back of the conference room, hoping to remain unseen. The last thing I needed was for my father to notice my presence, and demand to know the cause. While I was
an integral part of this organization, much to my father’s chagrin, I was not in the habit of inserting myself into meetings unannounced and uninvited, and my father knew it. So having to smooth talk my way into a reason for being here was something I was hoping to avoid.
I wouldn’t even be here, had it not been for George letting me know where she was. I hadn’t seen Miss Andrews in three days. I had been called to the Boston office shortly after our last encounter in the lobby and had only arrived back in town this morning. I had lasted twenty minutes in the building before I caved and went in search of George. For being a simple security guard, the man had the low down on all the hottest happenings in the building. He also had access to all employee calendars, which meant he could easily tell where Reagan was throughout the day, which was the only information I cared about. My need to see her was becoming more than a minor problem.
I had determined during my Boston getaway that the only solution to this problem, as I saw it, was to get that girl into my bed pronto, by whatever means necessary. I knew that if I stripped away the mystery that surrounded her, (and stripped her, literally, of course) she would become just as commonplace as the countless others before her and I could go back to meaningless hook ups from the occasional booty calls, who understood what they were getting when they chose to share my bed.
That’s all I needed. To tap that and move on.
I was sure of it. I refused to consider the alternative.
But I had to tread lightly of course. I couldn’t just barge into her office and demand her presence at my condo, stark naked, at nine p.m. sharp. My father would have my head, not to mention the lawsuit. She was an employee and I was the boss’s son, after all. Sexual harassment and all that.
So it was with surprised pleasure that I discovered, from George, of course, that Miss Reagan Andrews was apparently close to Dad’s assistant, Brooke Wade. I’d met her a few times; and knew that being in the position she was in, both figuratively and literally, it would be easy enough to secure her invite to my mother’s party. I knew this was my ticket to ensure Reagan would be there as well.
I continued to stare as Bailey Cooper reached over and touched her hand. My eyes narrowed as I watched, waiting to see if there was any further contact or any kind of unspoken sentiment between them. I was pretty certain Mr. Cooper played for the other team, but I was leaving nothing to chance. I quickly left the room, and headed toward the lobby.
It was time George and I had another chat.
Reagan
I was exhausted by the time I entered my bedroom to change that evening. Brooke had texted me she was picking up Chinese takeout on the way home, which worked out well as I was anxious to begin working on the rough draft, and had no desire to spend an hour in the kitchen whipping up something for dinner. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed my laptop and the file on J & J, and headed into the living room. While I waited for the laptop to power up, I dialed Helen to check in.
“Hi honey,” she answered.
“Hey, how are you?” I asked.
“I’m good. But what about you? How was your first week of work? Do you like it?” Typical Helen. Always putting me first, even when I didn’t deserve it.
“I do. It’s hard work, and there are things that will take some getting used to, but I’m doing something I love. I just landed my first assignment for a client,” I explained.
“Really? I’m so happy for you, Reagan,” Helen gushed.
“How is everything at home? Work going ok for you?” I inquired.
Helen sighed. “Oh, you know, work is work. Delivering the mail never gets old.” She chuckled.
“Well, I better get going. I have a rough draft due Monday and I don’t want to mess it up. I’ll call you next week?”
“Sounds good, honey. Have a good weekend!”
We said our goodbyes, and I opened the file on Johnson and Johnson. It was a hotel and spa chain that I vaguely remembered hearing about years ago. The chain was run by identical twins, Robert and Royce Johnson. From great food, the finest wines, to state of the art spa treatments, the goal at Johnson & Johnson was complete and utter relaxation. They took the term ‘five-star hotel’ to a whole new level.
The newest location was opening in Lanikai Beach, in Kailua, Hawaii. I studied the layout of the plans, and began writing down ideas. I had been working for perhaps an hour when Brooke came in.
“Reagan,” she called out.
“In the living room,” I answered.
“I have sesame chicken and wonderful news!” Brooke was ecstatic as she emptied several white cartons and a pile of chopsticks from a bag onto the coffee table.
I closed my laptop and sat it off to the side, reaching forward to snag a small carton. My stomach growled as I inhaled the scent. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry. “Wonderful news, huh? Like what?”
“We have plans this weekend,” she announced, beaming with barely controlled glee.
“Yes, I do have plans. They involve sweatpants, my laptop and lots of caffeine. I have to write up this proposal for Mr. Preston,” I reminded her as I dug into my chicken. I was starving.
“No, you will be joining me in the Hamptons at his summer house instead. I just got personally invited by Katherine Preston herself,” Brooke exclaimed.
I almost choked. “What? No way, Brooke. You saw what happened today. Roger Preston practically ate me up as his afternoon snack. I’m supposed to be working on a proposal to show him Monday morning. The last thing he needs is to see me partying it up in the Hamptons,” I told her.
Brooke rolled her eyes and flopped on the sofa. “Honestly? There will be so many people there I doubt he will even know you are, too. You can’t work all weekend. We were invited, personally. As in Katherine Preston came to my office to hand me this.” Brooke reached into her purse and pulled out a gray envelope, upon which had been written the words: Brooke Wade, plus one.
“You were invited. My name is not on that anywhere I can see,” I argued.
“Plus one, which means I get to bring a friend. And that is you. Now get to packing,” she ordered. “We leave early tomorrow morning. Katherine said she will have a car sent for us.”
I looked from Brooke’s pleading face to my laptop and the open file on the couch. Part of me wanted to insist that there was no way I could possibly waste time in the Hamptons at a party filled with people I didn’t know, because not only did I have this proposal draft hanging over my head, but I still had Gabby’s website to consider. But the other part of me, a part that seemed to be winning, screamed at me to be spontaneous.
I sighed with a groan. “Fine! I’ll go, but I have to get some work done tonight at least,” I told her.
“Yay!” Brooke squealed. “Do you want me to help you pack or anything?”
I contemplated letting her, but didn’t feel comfortable with it. We weren’t there yet, I supposed. Besides, I didn’t want to have the subject of my mom’s dress coming up again when Brooke invaded my closet. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it when I’m done here. It won’t take me long.”
“Don’t work too hard,” she instructed, as she collected the empty containers. Blowing me a kiss, she disappeared into her bedroom to do her own packing, and I picked up my laptop, determined to make some headway before morning.
Nathan
I let myself in the kitchen, weaving my way through the countless staff hired for the weekend to oversee the food, decorations, and guest accommodations. The place was a madhouse already. For all her faults, Mom sure did know how to throw a party.
She had been more than willing to extend an invite to Brooke and a plus one when I had suggested it yesterday afternoon. Brooke had been to the occasional work party, but never a Hampton’s party. Probably my father’s doing. I had my suspicions, and supposed I shouldn’t be so cynical when Brooke didn’t seem the type, but this was my father we were talking about.
However, mom was relentless in her attempts to see me married off, and I’m sure
that my suggestion to her screamed ‘hook up’. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to set me up with Brooke, and probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a small price to pay to see Reagan, and if all went well, I would make some headway on my plan of getting this girl out of my system. The thought that she may not even show up didn’t even occur to me.
Of course, there was the minor issue of her learning I was the boss’s son. While I didn’t consider this a reason to stop pursuing her, it could pose some complications. We’d just have to be discreet, that’s all.
Speaking of the boss, I briefly wondered if he knew his assistant was going to be here. Knowing him, the guest list had probably been emailed to him days ago, so the chances of catching him off guard were slim to none, but one could still hope.
I bypassed a team of florists carrying peony displays and snagged a muffin from the breakfast bar, feeling anxious.
“Nathaniel, there you are, so glad you came early.” Katherine Preston breezed into the kitchen, dressed in a white and blue gauzy dress that hit her knees. Her blonde hair was swept in a French twist and her makeup was flawless. I had never seen my mother look anything less than perfection.
“Mother, good morning. Have the guests started to arrive?” I leaned in to kiss her cheek, gratefully noting there was no discernible smell of alcohol. Thank God for small miracles.
Although, it was still early.
“Not yet, but I am sure it will only be a few more hours and this place will be packed.” Katherine smiled. “Anxious to see someone, dear?”
Made to Love Page 4
